This video is a 100% accurate depiction of my home state. More or less.
This video is a 100% accurate depiction of my home state. More or less.
Once upon a time, your local news stations were a reliable bastion of independent journalism. Chance are good that isn’t the case now.
If your local station is owned by Sinclair Broadcast Group, then it is required to run certain news and opinion pieces produced by Sinclair, not by any local journalist. It is required to air a daily “Terrorism Alert Desk” segment — also produced by Sinclair — regardless of any actual alert or danger. It is required to read transcripts written by Sinclair. Those programs and transcripts serve a political agenda.
This brilliant video demonstrating the power of Sinclair’s propaganda machine is just 1:38 minutes long and might freeze your blood.
If the word “Orwellian” just popped into your head, you are not alone.
An excellent Guardian article delves into Sinclair and its newfound power under the Trump administration, which is busily relaxing regulations that had previously limited Sinclair’s reach. Michael Copps, a former FCC chairman appointed by George W Bush, calls Sinclair “probably the most dangerous company most people have never heard of.”
John Oliver ran an informative and darkly humorous segment on Sinclair as well — if you don’t want to dig into the Guardian article, watch it below.
Wikipedia has a list of stations owned by Sinclair Broadcast Group. I checked it to see which Oregon stations are under its thumb, and found that Sinclair has a strong hold on Oregon broadcasting:
Between those five stations and their four satellites, Sinclair can reach the majority of Oregon households. The only major city it doesn’t cover is Salem.
Frightening. And very likely to get worse.
File this one under “I’ll be danged, I didn’t know that.”
Over the last couple of months, the clocks on our oven and microwave have been…off. First a minute, then a couple, then five, then six. I hadn’t consciously thought about why, but simply did what we humans are so good at and adjusted, because I was too lazy to reset the clock. “Hm, the oven clock says it’s 12:45, so that means it’s 12:51.”
It turns out that this was happening all over Europe. And the reason is…Kosovo.
There are two important bits to understanding this bizarre situation:
1. Cheap electronic clocks don’t tell time via a quartz crystal or an internet connection, which are relatively expensive methods. Instead, they use the cheaper method of synchronizing to the frequency of the mains electricity supply, which should be precisely 50 Hz.
2. Europe has the world’s largest synchronous electricity grid. Regional power companies coordinate with each other to keep electricity moving smoothly across the borders of 25 countries — and to maintain the frequency at 50 Hz.
But from mid-January to March 6, a tiny bit more power was being consumed than produced, leading to an average Europe-wide grid frequency of 49.996 Hz. So for around two months, all of those cheap clocks that tell time by frequency synchronization were convinced that time was moving a tiny bit slower.
Why is it Kosovo’s fault?
Having only declared independence from Serbia ten years ago, Kosovo is not a unified nation (or even fully recognized). Many in the north still consider themselves Serbian and refuse to pay Kosovo for their electricity, even though that’s where it’s generated. Thus Kosovo is unable to bill for some of its output, which of course affects production. In January, Kosovo failed to balance this out, and for two months continued to produce less power than was used. This net loss affected the entire European grid, reducing the grid-wide frequency by 0.004 Hz.
And all of our cheap clocks ran slow.
The Powers That Be (literally, ha) tell us that Kosovo has rebalanced and that the grid is recovering, but getting back to 50 Hz might take a bit of time. And since the political situation that caused the issue is unsolved, there’s no telling when/if it might happen again.
In the meantime, my expensive and extremely accurate laptop clock tells me it’s currently 13:33. The oven says it’s 13:27. I guess it’s time to finally fix it.
In an essay for the Chronicle of Higher Education, English professor Nina Handler laments the extinction of her species:
Charles Smithson, a character in John Fowles’s 1969 novel, The French Lieutenant’s Woman, is a wealthy, idle gentleman who faces the challenge of realizing that he, as a type, is becoming extinct. The novel is set in 1867, and Charles, a devotee of Darwin, considers the recently published On the Origin of Species to be his bible. His social class will cease to exist within a generation, and Charles has both the wisdom to see that he must adapt and the self-awareness to know that he is incapable of it. He is being swept away by evolutionary change but is helpless to change his fate.
I am a college English instructor. This is a bad time for my species — and a bad time for the study of English. In academe, we are witnessing an extinction of fields of study once thought essential. I teach at a private university that has just canceled majors in English, religious studies, philosophy, and music. The English major is becoming the useless gentleman, the Charles Smithson, of the modern university.
It’s a disheartening essay, particularly when she points out that as education becomes merely a hoop to jump through in order to find work, the values assigned to that education relate solely to its vocational utility.
I fully understand that, because when I declared for English as my major — way back in the mid-80s — everyone had the same question: “Oh, so you’re going to be an English teacher?” As if getting a bachelor’s degree in the study of literature could not possibly qualify me for anything other than turning around to teach others to study the same thing.
“No,” was my answer.
“I don’t know.” At the age of 19, how would I know what I planned to do with my life? I thought the point of a university education was to equip me with the tools I could use to figure that out — and for the rest of my days thereafter.
Thirty years ago, most people could not comprehend choosing a university degree that had no immediate and obvious path to employment. I don’t think what Nina Handler is experiencing is new. But I do think it has gotten much worse.
What I know for certain is that my English major taught me critical thinking skills. It taught me philosophy and the universality of human experience. It taught me about worlds, times, and cultures I could never live in, but could visit in my mind. It led me to the realization that I was not just an American, but a citizen of the world living on a tiny point in the vast tide of human history.
As I watch the alarming rise of racism, nationalism, and other-blaming hatred in my home nation, in post-Brexit Britain, and in too many other places, I don’t think it’s the humanities that are in danger. I think it’s what the humanities create: educated citizens of the world who care about more than just themselves. People who see the improvement of others’ lives as a benefit to all, not a threat to their pocketbook or sense of identity. People who respond to differences with curiosity, not fear.
But as a humanities major, I know that all of this has happened before. I know the horrors it can lead to. I also know that humans have approached this brink — and gone over it — time and time again. Yet even in the worst of times, there are brilliant lights of our species’ greatest potential. There are creators of wondrous music, art, and literature. There are scientific breakthroughs. There are people who risk themselves to help others they don’t even know, simply because it is the right thing to do.
If I could go back to my 19-year-old self, I would offer a different answer to that question of “What are you going to do with an English degree?”
I would say: I am going to live a rich, diverse life that takes me places I never expected. And I am going to hope.
Happy holidays to all those who celebrate in their diverse ways.
(I took the photo at top in Normandy, France. Les Breves was sculpted by Anilore Banon, and stands in the sands of Omaha Beach as an homage to the many who died there in order to liberate a captive land. The three sections represent three elements: the Wings of Hope, Rise Freedom, and the Wings of Fraternity. Created for a temporary installation, this luminous art has been so popular that it remains indefinitely, a blending of art and nature: humanities at their finest.)
Stop what you’re doing and watch this video. But watch it the right way: full screen, in a darkened room, and with a good sound system turned up.
This is 3:18 minutes of the best lightning footage I’ve ever seen, cut and edited into a jaw-dropping video with music that perfectly complements the drama. After watching it with me, my son said, “I never knew lightning moved that way.”
I said, “No one did until a few years ago. The technology didn’t exist to capture something that moved at the speed of light.”
For me, geek that I am, one of the coolest things about this video is that it exists. I remember when the first footage was made available from a scientific study of lightning that involved a concrete bunker (for sheltering the scientists), an electrical system designed to attract a lightning bolt, and what was then a state-of-the-art slow motion camera. The scientists shot unending amounts of film recording absolutely nothing when their system didn’t attract a bolt, but eventually managed to capture a few important seconds amongst all those hours and hours of footage. Their published article, with accompanying video, changed the body of thought on how lightning traveled.
That wasn’t very long ago — but technology has moved only a little slower than the speed of light.
Photographer Dustin Farrell spent the summer of 2017 chasing storms while toting a 4K camera rig that takes 1000 frames per second of raw, uncompressed footage. (For comparison: most movies are shot at 24 frames per second.) After driving 20,000 miles over a 30-day period, he had recorded 10 terabytes of data, which he then whittled down to 3:18 of spectacular video.
What enabled his success was not just the ultrafast frame rate of modern cameras, but also the recording technology in which a camera constantly records, writes to RAM, then overwrites, and overwrites again…until a button is pressed to save the RAM contents. This is the tech currently used in police body cameras. It’s why, when an officer activates a body cam, the recording actually starts 30 seconds earlier. It’s not that the camera is a time machine, it’s that it is saving the footage already recorded but not yet overwritten.
You can imagine how handy this is in taking video of lightning. Now, instead of “rolling film” for an hour-long storm and waiting for a bolt to happen, Farrell could simply press a button the moment he saw a bolt and voila, he caught it.
So…take a look at what he caught.
(Hat tip to Ally.)
Many of us are remembering Anita Hill’s trailblazing courage these days, as the dams are breaking and so many women are telling their stories of sexual harassment and sexual assault.
What is rarely recalled now is that the 1991 Senate confirmation vote was a huge fight, with six Democratic senators switching their “yea” votes to “nay” over the weekend after the hearings. It wasn’t enough, and Clarence Thomas was confirmed by a vote of 52-48.
Only two Republicans voted against Thomas. One was James Jeffords from Vermont. The other was Bob Packwood from Oregon.
One year later, we Oregonians realized the great irony of Packwood rebelling against his party to prevent a sexual abuser from being seated on the Supreme Court. Ten women, most former lobbyists or Packwood staffers, came forward to accuse him of sexual harassment, abuse, and assault. The Washington Post had the story but held it until after the November election, in which Packwood defeated Democratic challenger Les AuCoin. (I remember that race well.)
For three years, my state was roiled by the ongoing investigation into Packwood. Eventually, a total of 19 women were willing to follow the example of courage that Anita Hill burned into our national consciousness.
Packwood’s diary became a topic of water-cooler conversation and considerable legal wrangling. Could it be subpoenaed, or was it covered by the Fifth Amendment? He eventually turned over 5,000 pages to the Senate Ethics Committee, but when it became obvious that those pages were edited, the committee demanded another 3,200 pages. Packwood refused.
And here is where Packwood made his fatal mistake. Angry at what he perceived as being singled out, he issued a veiled threat to the effect that many others in the Senate had done the exact same thing (which of course we know was true) — and demanded that his hearings be public.
That did not go over well. The Senate Ethics Committee recommended that Packwood be expelled from the Senate “for sexual and official misconduct,” a truly nuclear option that forced Packwood to resign.
In the special election to replace him, Oregon elected then-US Representative Ron Wyden, a Democrat. He has since become a powerful voice for affordable health care, human rights, and civil liberties, while voting against the war in Iraq and the reauthorization of the Patriot Act. He has done a great deal to raise awareness of, and attempt to limit, the vast American surveillance state currently spying on its citizens. In short, he has been everything I could hope for in a senator.
Meanwhile, Bob Packwood retired on a comfortable $90,000/year pension with full benefits. For years, I had a printout of one of his diary entries on my office wall, because it was so indicative of the entitled mindset that eventually brought him down. It was from November 8, 1993, and said:
“Well, I did wrong, and I know I did wrong, but I’ve been caught, so I’ll call it misjudgment.”
This is a long video at 40 minutes, but it is a fascinating and fast-moving talk on the massive disruptions caused by wind and solar in the electrical power markets, as well as the disruption caused by batteries, tech, and electric vehicles in the oil markets.
There is no way that the CEOs and investors of US coal companies don’t know these statistics. They know that solar and wind are now equal in cost-per-kilowatt-hour to coal, and in the latest bids, far cheaper — even without subsidies. They know their industry will soon be made obsolete due to market pressures.
The current US administration’s behavior in stopping any attempt to regulate the amount of toxic metals (such as arsenic and mercury) that coal plants are allowed to dump in public waterways, and rolling back the Clean Power Plan while declaring “the war on coal is over,” is not about bringing coal jobs back. Those jobs are never coming back, and many more jobs will soon be lost. What those behaviors are really about is enriching the billionaire CEOs and investors. They are cashing out while they can, and they do not give one flying fig about American workers or the environment (national or global). Neither does the administration.
Meanwhile, other nations are going all in on what they can clearly see are the technologies and power sources of the near future. The statistic about China cancelling 104 planned coal power plants ($80 billion in investment) in January of this year is mind boggling. Forty of those plants had already broken ground. “At least $20 billion was just thrown away,” the presenter says, and why would China do that? The Chinese are nothing if not ruthlessly pragmatic.
The US under Trump is looking backward, filling the pockets of the mega-rich while hobbling the nation as other world players take the lead in technology and production. Our loss is the world’s gain, though — and watching this video is one of the most uplifting moments I’ve had this year. It gives me hope.
(Hat tip to TYWKIWDBI.)
In Monsaraz, one of my favorite Portuguese towns (a walled village atop a hill near the Spanish border — terribly romantic), a boutique gin manufacturer has set up shop.
The gin is called Sharish, and it is worthy. I love Sharish’s standard gin, which is made with a number of botanicals including the locally grown apple variety. The strong hint of apple means that this gin is enhanced with a few slices of apple along with tonic, producing an almost sweet drink.
Sharish also makes a gin called Blue Magic, which contains extract from a flower called the blue pea. It is…distinctive.
As with the standard Sharish, I add a bit of apple to my glass along with the ice…
…and then comes the fun bit. Sharish Blue Magic has a secret up its sleeve. When you mix it with tonic, it changes color.
And this is why we should all pay attention to our chemistry classes in high school, because really, how cool is that?
Sharish Blue Magic is making a big impression in bars, where bartenders enjoy the easy magic show and customers love the taste (and color) of the drink. I’m guessing we won’t drink it very often, because it’s more expensive than the standard Sharish, and that extra money is solely for the color change. But I do love that apple flavor, so different from every other gin. And now and again, it’s fun to pour in the tonic and watch the show.
On a different but related topic, I’ll be doing a live interview on the Cocktail Hour tonight at 4:00 pm EST (8:00 pm in the London-Lisbon time zone), talking about Outcaste. The two Cocktail Hour hosts and I always have a rollicking time as we chat and they toss questions/opinions at me. We also take questions from viewers — just post them on the YouTube page linked above. (Cocktail Hour shows are also available in podcast form shortly after the interview.)
How is this topic related, you ask? Well, the Cocktail Hour ladies do love their drinks. So I’ll be demonstrating the color change of Sharish Blue Magic Gin for them…and then fueling my end of the interview with a very fine Portuguese gin.
Outcaste is here, and the reviews are already coming in. Here is one of my favorite comments so far:
The characters of Rahel and Mouse are so beautifully described. Rahel with an unshakeable belief that she will, at some point, get where she wants; and Mouse with such an opposing view — of the futility of having dreams.
Dreams — having them, pursuing them, giving them up, being gifted with them — are at the heart of this story. It’s not an oversight that there are two chapters titled “Dreams.” An entire lifetime passes between those chapters, and the dreams in question lead in different directions.
Rahel Sayana is a protagonist who is not high-born or powerful or extra gifted…yet she is special in the way that all of us can be if we hold on to our dreams and go after them with everything we have. She makes mistakes — big ones! — but her heart is always in the right place, and that heart draws a varied cast of supporting characters who help her on her way. As one of those characters says:
“We live many lives in our time here on Alsea. Hopefully, when we Return, we have a great deal to show for the way we spent our days. I like to think that when it’s my turn to speak to Fahla and tell her what I did with the time she gave me, she will not be bored by the tale.”
Outcaste is a story of the many lives of Rahel Sayana, an ordinary mid empath with big dreams. I think Fahla will not be bored by her tale.
I did something today that I never imagined myself doing: I sat down on the sofa with my wife and teen son and played them a video from the Las Vegas mass shooting.
Why? Because my wife and I frequently visit the US, and my son likely will at some point (though he currently shows little desire to, finding my nation baffling and backwards). And at this point in our history, one thing has become obvious.
Anyone going to visit the US should be able to recognize the sound of gunfire.
Even, maybe especially, automatic gunfire. The firing rate in Las Vegas indicates either a fully automatic weapon (one of the only types of guns that is difficult to buy in the US) or a semi-automatic modified with a cheap (less than $100) device to simulate a fully automatic firing rate. The latter is more likely, completely legal, and extremely easy to procure.
Gunfire doesn’t sound like what you hear in the movies or on TV. Unless you’re close to the weapon being fired, it doesn’t have that resonant boom that shakes your subwoofer during an action scene. It sounds like a little pop. “Like firecrackers,” is what witnesses often say. In the case of the Las Vegas shooting, it sounded like a whole lot of pops, a whole string of firecrackers.
(I originally wrote “the most recent mass shooting,” but that is already out of date. Three people died and two were injured in another mass shooting in Lawrence, Kansas yesterday.)
People die because they don’t recognize this sound. They don’t immediately duck and run. I now consider the ability to recognize gunfire a basic safety requirement before crossing the US border.
My son said, “The United States: zero days since the last mass shooting.” Americans, this is how our nation is viewed by the developed world. Except the truth is, we should set that counter at hours, not days. Over the past five years, the US has averaged a mass shooting 9 out of every 10 days.
This shooting was horrific. Families will be torn apart and grieving. Many victims will need long-term care; many others who weren’t injured will need trauma counseling that most of them won’t be able to afford.
But nothing will change, because selling guns and selling fear is making a lot of people very rich — from the manufacturers to the right-wing media stars to the lobbyists to the legislators they buy and the parasites who live off them.
Listen to this sound. If you live in or plan to visit the US, you should be able to recognize it.
EDITED TO ADD: YouTube took down the video I linked to, but it was made by the Guardian, which still has it up. It’s at the top of this page of ongoing updates.